


I'm a new wave gospel sharp. and you'll be thy witness

by Ragno



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blasphemy, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Early Days, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Rimming, praying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 20:11:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4638645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragno/pseuds/Ragno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon doesn't understand why Ryan would want to meet at a church.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm a new wave gospel sharp. and you'll be thy witness

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know a lot about Mormonism and, as you should know by now, this is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes. If you're Mormon and see anything wrong, please tell me (also, if you're Mormon you probably hate me for this. If that's the case, please, don't tell me).

As Brendon walks down the aisle, he can hear the echo of his steps filling the air, disturbing the characteristic solemn silence. He’s been in this church before, but not so many times to be familiar with it. It’s dark, the only light coming from outside, the sun fighting to come trough the dense stained glass windows, making the colors seem alive. There are angels and saints, stiff, lifeless. The thick black outline makes them more unrealistic, but it still feels like their dead cold eyes are looking at him. There’s the distinctive scent of moisture, incense and dying flowers, the one that sticks in your clothes and your hair, forcing you to remember this is a holy place and you don’t belong here, because you’re impure. Brendon is impure.

He has learned to be God fearing, since he was a little boy, too different, too loud, too annoying; he’s learned to be quiet, to be respectful, to be normal. Because that’s what God’s want, and God’s will it’s the only thing that matters. Her mother had taught him well, even if sometimes he get lost and need some help to get back into the fold.

Like the band thing, for example. He’s still thinking about if it would really be a good idea. His brothers and sisters like it, his parents no so much. But he knows there are Mormon bands, so it doesn’t have to be so bad. He wonders what does God think about it.

Brendon touches the dark, solid wooden bench as he walks forward. The place is empty. Who would be at the church on a Thursday afternoon?

"I don’t get why you wanted us to meet here." Brendon says when he sees him. He doesn’t get why at this hour either. He hasn’t had time even for changing his school clothes.

Ryan’s right there, in the chapel, leaning against the altar.

Brendon doesn’t know him that well yet, they’ve only talked a few times outside the band rehearsals (if you could call it that), and only because Brendon spent those nights in Spencer’s house along with Ryan. He knows Ryan went to a Catholic school with Spencer, and he doesn’t have a problem with Brendon being a Mormon, which is good. Brendon also knows Ryan makes him feel things he shouldn’t, and the right thing to do about it would be to stay away form him as much as he could. But they’re in a church, so Brendon thinks it’s a safe neutral place.

"It had to be this way. Christian churches work for Mormons too, right? I mean, this is a holy place for you too, isn’t it?" Ryan says.

"I guess…" Brendon shrugs, stepping closer to Ryan, but not too close.

"You can confess in here?" Ryan asks again, and Brendon senses there’s something else hidden in the question.

"I suppose it would be okay if, you know, if I couldn’t go to my church." Brendon explains, trying to fight the urge of avoiding Ryan’s gaze. His eyes are too intense, too indecipherable, Brendon’s not sure if he likes that. "Why do you ask, anyway?"

"I just wanted to be sure your confession will get to your God." Ryan answers, his face not changing at all.

Brendon laughs a little, because this has to be a joke. Spencer told him about Ryan’s sense of humor. This has to be it. A joke.

"You’re about to confess, Brendon." Ryan says, his voice as dark as the place itself. "For you have sinned."

Brendon’s blood freezes.

He knows what Ryan’s talking about, although he doesn’t know _how_ Ryan knows. He had been careful; he swears he had been careful. And it didn’t happen so many times, just a couple of them.

It’s the only thing he hasn’t confessed, even if it’s the biggest sin he’s ever done in his life. He knows he should get the hell out of there, but Ryan’s eyes are still on him, and the stare is like a chain, pulling him as Ryan leans closer. Brendon tries to breathe, there’s always the chance he’s wrong and Ryan’s talking about a completely different thing.

"I heard you." Ryan notes. "I heard you moaning my name at Spencer’s. You were touching yourself, right? Thinking no one knew." He asks, but he doesn’t wait for Brendon to answer. "Such a bad Mormon boy, that’s a sin." Ryan accuses, biting his lips to hold the obvious smirk. "What would your God think about that?" Ryan shakes his head, clicking his tongue.

Brendon doesn’t know what to say. He’s still frozen in the same place, and Ryan is getting closer and closer. He knows he should be doing something, and getting hard it’s not precisely one of those things.

But his hands are sweaty and his body shaking, and Brendon’s pretty sure his glasses are going to get steamed anytime soon if his body temperature continues increasing the way it is now. And he doesn’t. He just.

Ryan is so close. Too close. Too much. And he doesn’t stop looking him in the eyes, their noses touching. And when Ryan’s lips part, Brendon swallows.

"Kneel." Ryan whispers, his breath against Brendon’s mouth.

And Brendon’s knees hit the ground faster than ever.

_Adoro te devote, latens Deitas,_

_Quae sub his figuris vere latitas:_

The prayer reaches his lips before his brain can process it. He can hear Ryan’s groan at the sound of his voice, and he can’t help but look up.

_Tibi se cor meum totum subiicit,_

_Quia te contemplans totum deficit._

Ryan slides his hand behind Brendon’s neck, grabbing his hair, pushing him soflty onto him. Brendon can feel Ryan’s hard cock pressing on his cheek. He can’t help but rubbing against it.

_Visus, tactus, gustus in te fallitur,_

_Sed auditu solo tuto creditur._

"Are you going to be a good Mormon boy?" Ryan praises, stroking his hair softly. "Are you going to behave, Brendon?"

Brendon nods and Ryan smiles, caressing his cheek before unzipping his pants, taking his hard cock out. Brendon feels the lump in his throat at the sight. He’s never seen someone else’s penis, not even his brothers’ in the bathroom. Nudity was not something common in his house, not even natural. And now he’s so afraid he really shouldn’t be salivating. But he is. And this is a sin. It’s a sin, it’s a sin, it’s a sin.

Ryan touches his leaking cock, rubbing the head lightly with his thumb, smearing the shiny fluid and bringing it up to Brendon’s lips, making the sign of the cross on them. His thumb lingers on Brendon’s bottom lip, making him open his mouth, sliding inside, touching his tongue.

The taste explodes in his mouth, bitter and salty, so strong Brendon closes his eyes and his lips at the same time, sucking unconsciously on Ryan’s finger. Brendon feels the pad of the thumb rubbing against his tongue before sliding out. He wants to complain, he wants Ryan’s finger back in his mouth, he wants Ryan back.

"I want you to suck my cock." Ryan whispers.

Brendon wants. He wants, even if he know he shouldn’t, even if they are in God’s sacred house, even if he’s earning a place in hell. God is looking, the angels are looking, the saints and their dead eyes on him.

"Forgive me father, for I have sinned," he mutters as he puts his hands in Ryan’s thighs, lips trembling, eyes dark, "and I’m about to sin again."

The moment he opens his lips around the head of Ryan’s cock, the moment his tongue flicks at the slit, dragging out more of that addictive taste, it’s the moment Brendon knows his soul will never be saved. He mouths at the head, sticking out his tongue, flat against the shaft. Ryan moans, tugging at his hair.

"All of it." Ryan says. "I want you to take all of it."

Brendon would nod if he could, and he tries. Then he opens his jaw wider and pushes forward. Ryan’s cock invades his mouth fast and merciless, and Brendon can feel it everywhere form his lips to the entrance of his throat, so stiff it seems unbreakable. He remembers the Holy Scriptures “the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak”. Weak. He is. He is weak. But the flesh, oh Good Lord, the flesh is _hard_.

Ryan takes his mouth like it was his own, his property, like he wants to show God he has no power over Brendon, not anymore. Now it’s just him. Brendon wonders if this is the temptation the prophet warns about, the temptation you are willing to fall into. Brendon wonders if Ryan is Satan, if the way he’s ravishing his mouth, the way he’s claiming him, it’s the way he has to own his soul forever.

Brendon looks up at Ryan, the vision blurry because his glasses are sliding down the bridge of his nose. Ryan pets his cheek, slamming into his mouth.

"You’re a sinner, Brendon."

_I am_

He wants the devil to own his soul. He wants Ryan to claim him. To use him.

_I am a sinner, I am a sinner, I am a sinner_

_Dear Lord, I know I am a sinner and I ask You for forgiveness_

Ryan thrusts harder and Brendon fists the fabric over Ryan’s thighs. He tastes Ryan’s flavor getting thicker, stronger, filling his mouth as he fucks the opening of his lips. Ryan watches him through half-lidded eyes, lips red and shiny, breath ragged, and Brendon knows. He knows.

"Gonna come." Ryan warns, and somehow the grip in Brendon’s hair gets softer, as if he wanted Brendon to know he could get away from it.

Brendon sucks. He sucks hard around Ryan’s cock, flicking his tongue and working his jaw, pressing his lips against the hot skin. Ryan tugs hard his hair and he’s coming in his mouth, bitter and heavy, with a strangle groan that echoes in the place.

"Eat my flesh and drink my come, so you’ll abide in me and I in you." Ryan say, sliding his hand to touch Brendon’s mouth, pressing his lips together when his cock slides out of them.

Ryan’s mocking God, he’s mocking his faith, but Brendon swallows anyway

"And I’ll raise you up the last day." Ryan adds, helping Brendon to get up, facing him with a smirk. "Aren’t you a little Last Days Saint? Are you up?"

Ryan puts his hand between Brendon’s legs, and that’s the moment he realize he’s absolutely and painfully hard. The touch is to light for his taste, or maybe too rough, Brendon’s not sure, but he doesn’t have the time to think about it. Ryan unbuttons his pants, unzipping them, pulling them down along with his underwear. It takes a second for Ryan to change positions, to lean Brendon against the altar, to press himself against Brendon’s now sweaty back.

"Look at him." Ryan whisper at his ear, his whole body convulsing at the electric waves that goes all over his skin. Brendon obeys, looking up at the cross, putting his glasses back in place to focus. "He died for your sins, Brendon. He died for this." He licks at the rim of his ear before placing a hand at his back, pushing him softly, bending him over the altar. "He died so you could sin like this, so you could be here, ready to be fucked, eager to be fucked."

"Ryan, please." Brendon begs when he feels the long skilled fingers parting his cheeks, exposing him right there, under the eyes of the Heaven, in the house of God.

"Say your prayers, little Mormon boy. You’re gonna need them to save your soul."

The moment Ryan stops talking is the moment Brendon feels the hot, wet pressure of Ryan’s tongue against him, right there where his body is willing to open and let him in. Brendon moans and tries to hide his face from God, from himself. Ryan licks him soft, sweet, holding him wide open, pressing his lips deeper, his tongue further, and Brendon’s cock aches at the feeling. Ryan licks and sucks and spits on him, smearing the mess with two of his fingers.

Brendon’s hot all over his body, his hair curling, the sweat sliding down his forehead, his neck, sticking his shirt to his skin. Ryan presses a finger inside, the muscle giving in so easily it’s almost embarrassing. Ryan pushes his finger in and out, just once, joining a second one and dipping them inside Brendon, licking around them.

Ryan drags his mouth up Brendon’s skin, stopping when he gets to his shirt, going directly to his neck, pressing an open mouth kiss on his nape, licking soft, biting hard. Brendon cries as he feels his cock pulse at the feeling.

"I don’t hear you praying." Ryan whispers, twisting his fingers inside Brendon. "Are you giving up on God, Brendon?"

"N-No…" He stutters, unconsciously opening his legs when Ryan’s other hand touch lightly his cock.

"Then pray." Ryan commands, grabbing Brendon’s cock in his fist.

Oh, God forgives him.

"Behold me, O my God, at Your feet…" Brendon prays, licking his lips, trembling when Ryan starts to stroke his cock in a slow torture. "I do not deserve mercy, but… O my Redeemer, the blood with You have shed for me encourages me and obliges me to hope for it."

"So good. Keep it going, babe." Ryan mutters at his skin, kissing his jaw.

"How often I have offended You, repented, and yet… have I again fallen into the same sin. O my God…"

Ryan adds a third finger, shoving them hard, making Brendon clench around them. He drags his thumb down, rubbing Brendon’s perineum. Too much. It’s too much. Brendon doesn’t think he can stand it. Ryan moves his fingers faster, burning him inside out, making his whole body tremble. He wonders how sinful the picture would look from the outside, from the Highest point of view. He shudders.

"I have - _oh_ \- trusted in my own promises and resolutions… and have neglected to recommend myself to You in my temptations." Brendon prays, the words almost slurred, his breath rough and uneven. "This has been the cause of my repeated failures."

He can’t keep praying. He wants to, for some twisted reason he wants to keep praying, but Ryan’s hand is fisting his leaking cock, three fingers thrusting deep inside him, rubbing hard and fast some place that makes Brendon arch and bite his lips, trying not to swear in vain. He looks up and the wooden Christ looks back at him, Brendon opens his lips and grabs the edge of the altar as hard as he can.

He’s going to come.

"Ryan…" Brendon moans, his keens getting weak.

"Keep praying." Ryan stops him. "Be a good Mormon boy and I’ll let you come. I’ll make you come."

Brendon groans, curling his toes, digging his nails on the altar, gathering all his remaining strength to keep the words coming.

"From t-this day forward, be You, O Lord… my strength," he pants, his voice so wrecked he’s not going to be able to sing in days, "and this shall I be able to do all things, for I can… for I can… Ryan, _Oh God."_  Brendon moans, feeling his whole body convulsing, Ryan fucks his fingers harder inside him, faster. "I can do all things in Him who strengthens me…"

He’s coming. His eyes closed and his mouth panting, his cheeks so red and his forehead damped. He’s coming over Ryan’s fist, over the sacred altar, in front of God’s eyes.

Ryan’s fingers slide carefully out of him, turning Brendon over to face him, brining his come stained hand to his mouth.

"The body of Christ." He jokes as he licks his fingers clean. "You forgot to say 'Amen', by the way."

Brendon’s going to say something, but Ryan grabs him by his shirt and pulls him over, catching his lips in his mouth, kissing him, licking him. Brendon opens and let Ryan’s tongue push inside, tasting himself in Ryan’s own flavor. Brendon moans softly and Ryan hums.

"You’re fucking delicious." Ryan says over his lips. "Everywhere." He adds. Brendon doesn’t think he can get any redder.

Before Brendon can register what’s happening, Ryan has pull his pants on and he’s zipping Brendon’s, trying to compose him a little, fixing his clothes.

"We should get going. The priest probably is finishing his work at the sacristy by now." Ryan says.

"The priest is here??" Brendon asks, astonished.

"Of course, you dumb. What did you though?" Ryan snorts, shaking his head. "I’ll see you tomorrow at Spencer’s, yeah?"

Brendon swallows and nods, still startled at the change of tone in Ryan’s voice.

"See you." Ryan smiles, stopping himself to lean over Brendon one last time before leaving. "Oh, and… next time I’m going to fuck you. In your church this time, in front of your Lord."

And, with those words still tingling his skin, Ryan disappears, leaving Brendon shaky and horny again.

He heads home, wondering how is he going to manage to walk into his church for now on every week without getting a hard on.

 


End file.
